Looking Up To Ernie
by jewelwhisperer
Summary: It's dark and dangerous, and even the Hufflepuff's are disowning people...


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Looking Up to Ernie

* * *

We couldn't really say what made Ernie so different from us. We just knew that he was.

We were Hufflepuffs in every sense of the word. We weren't anything spectacular, and we knew it. We knew that we were loyal, by the Sorting Hat, and that we were not cunning, brave, or especially wise. We were leftovers. But at least we were leftovers together.

For Ernie, being a leftover was never good enough. He always wanted more. None of us knew what to think of him, really. As soon as that Hat shouted out the word "Hufflepuff" the rest of us took on a docile, wallflower, stand-aside-to-let-others-pass attitude. When the Hat shouted it out for Ernie, he was a little put-out, but made it his life's goal to give the House the glory he thought it deserved.

Ernie really was everything a Hufflepuff was supposed to be, but he was also quite a few things that a Hufflepuff wasn't. He was mostly loyal, not too brave, not too smart, not too cunning, nothing too spectacular, but still the most spectacular student in our class, our house. Not to mention he had an ego the size of Russia, something the rest of us never got around to getting. (Of course, this would later make him, every once and a while, a pompous ass we all just wanted to kick as hard as we could.) For the most part, though, we all looked up to Ernie.

It was a rather dark, dreary January night, and we were all gathered around the fire in the Common Room. Outside, there was chaos, and we could hear it through the walls that separated the Hufflepuff common room from the food portrait corridor. Actually, we were playing a game with it. We were trying to guess which hurried footsteps belonged to which teacher. Some were easy—Hagrid's were loud bangs, while McGonagall's were quick and slightly quieter. Most of the other's were harder—were the medium-speed, heavy footsteps Sprout's, or Vector's?

We were right in the middle of arguing over whether the hurried yet (sly? Shy?) sounding steps were Snape's or Trelawny's when Ernie showed up. He sat down heavily in the last armchair left, sighing harshly. Just showed up out of nowhere and acted as if the world were coming to an end. He didn't offer to tell us anything, but he wanted us to ask. So we did: "What's up?"

He waited a moment, pretending to hesitate. "Well," he said slowly, drawing the word out, "I think I know why the teachers are in a rush."

We knew that Ernie's "I think" theories were usually wrong, like in second year, but his dark demeanor and drawn out words caught our attention. Exchanging looks around our group, we silently voted to listen: "What d'you think?"

"I think," he said, leaning towards us, beckoning us into a sort of huddle, "that You-Know-Who is going to attack on Hogwarts."

He paused for effect, letting the words sink in. It was a hard image to grasp. Battles with You-Know-Who always happened in places where Muggles couldn't see, where he had a purpose, something he wanted. Outside in the hall something large thumped, adding to Ernie's desired effect. "What makes you think that?"

"I think it's because of Harry Potter," he replied pompously. He was met with silence.

Someone in the back disagreed, voicing what the rest of us thought. "You always think it's got to do with Harry Potter," they said lazily. "And it's never his fault."

"No, but he always ends up having something to do with it, doesn't he?" Ernie snapped, his dark, mysterious look gone. He looked hurt, even mad. Whatever had thumped in the hall was being dragged down the hall, and it grated painfully on the stone floors. "I mean, in second year, I'll say that most think that no, he wasn't controlling the monster, but what proof have we of that? Sure, he says he killed it, but maybe he did it just to get the eye away from himself."

Now we drew back. We admired Ernie, sure, but we practically idolized Harry Potter. He saved our skins. He was everything of every house, a hero several times over. Besides, we all felt guilty because we believed Ernie in second year when he told us that Harry was controlling the monster. "You really believe that?"

"Yes," Ernie answered, throwing his chin up. He wasn't finished yet. "I also think he meant to turn the DA into a league for You-Know-Who!"

A girl in front gasped. Suddenly, our hearts were all beating furiously fast—not only was the idea frightening, but the look in Ernie's eye was absolutely terrifying. A flat voice in back (probably the same one that scorned the idea that it was Harry's fault) said, "Then why would he name it Dumbledore's Army?"

Ernie's lips grew into a wicked grin, and we don't mean awesome. "That was just a ploy. To make us feel safe. Get us on his side."

There was a pregnant pause, and Ernie stood. It was like he had something important to tell us, and he'd meant to tell us what it was later on, but he didn't think he had any choice. We watched as he went to stand in front of the fire, just so that the light bathed only certain parts of his face and left the others in shadow. He looked like the devil himself.

"I believe that Harry Potter killed Cedric Diggory," he stated, his voice powerful.

This time several of us gasped. Bringing up Cedric Diggory's death was completely out of line, even in an accusatory statement, for a Hufflepuff, not to mention a Hufflepuff class that had known the handsome teenager. And to accuse the school's—and wizarding world's—hero and saviour of the crime was practically blasphemous. We had almost believed him, with his strong words and poses, but he had gone too far with his accusations.

A tense silence draped over us like a curtain. We looked among ourselves, decided that someone had to say something, and finally pushed forward Hannah Abbot (who, consequently, had recently dated Ernie).

"Look, Ernie," she said gently, wringing her hands, "You know we look up to you. You really are an inspiration to a lot of us. But we just can't believe you."

"It's true," he hissed at her, his eyes narrowing and his lips curling into a sneer, something none of us had seen before on his features. He looked a bit like a snake, coiled up and ready to strike. Hannah flinched a little but didn't back down.

"It's not," she insisted. "Harry Potter is a hero to the wizarding world. You would probably be dead without him. He wasn't controlling the monster in second, he wasn't going to turn us over to You-Know-Who, and he did not kill Cedric Diggory." The conviction in her voice grew and so did the conviction in our minds.

Ernie looked trapped, like an animal in a cage that wasn't used to being caged. "Fine," he snapped at her, "fine." He threw his gaze over the rest of us, and we cringed. He began to leave, walking up to his dormitory, before turning around once more.

"When Hogwarts lies in ruin and only Harry Potter survives the blast, you'll be up in heaven praying you'd listen to me," he said, and whipped back around to stalk into his rooms.

We looked at each other, and slowly Hannah came back to her seat. We sat staring at the fire for a few moments.

Finally, Hannah said what we all thought, but somehow doubted, and her voice was as strong as Ernie's, and we believed her: "Harry Potter will save us all."

After that night, none of us really trusted what Ernie said anymore. There was always that sneaking suspicion that he was after our blood, like a vampire, only creepier, because we knew him personally, and he slept where we did. We knew he wasn't really evil, but sometimes the way his face arranged itself was sinister, and it became a sort of joke that he should be a Slytherin.

It took its toll on Ernie. He drew back into the shadows, voiced his opinion less and less. We didn't realize it for a while, but finally we began to understand that we'd shut him out. We could tell how much he was suffering by the way he was always polite and eager whenever we talked to him. He constantly watched his words; he became hesitant.

None of us really regretted it though. Actually, it was quite tragic that the most loyal house had disowned one of their own. A little embarrassing, too. But in the end, Harry Potter did save the world, and Ernie disappeared in the aftermath. We knew he would.

It's terrible, but we never miss him.


End file.
